Mercury
by DramioneInLove
Summary: The bloodlusting reign of the King of Gryffindor has sent thousands into hiding. The only person oblivious to this seems to be the King's sole heir, Princess Hermione, so when she is captured by thieves, she is ready to protect her birthright. Until the too seductive Draco Malfoy decides that his prisoner is the key to end the tyranny of the Granger family within the kingdom...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone.**

**This is my new fiction, in English this time- sorry dear French readers. I might have it translated later, although I'm planning on publishing a kind of Robin Hood Dramione fic in French soon that in many aspects will be similar to this one.**

**The title, Mercury, is in reference to two things. First, in Roman mythology, Mercury was the god of thieves. Secondly, it is of course a reference to Draco Malfoy's silver eyes.**

**I do hope you like it. Unfortunately, my beta has currently stopped evolving in Fanfiction, much to my sorrow, and I haven't found a new one yet. So I do hope you will be able to overlook any writing mistakes in this fiction.**

**The story is one that I love a lot, and I hope you'll appreciate it as much as I do. It is an AU, so I'm going to give you a little information, although as the story goes on you should manage to understand it all:**

**- This is in the 1600's, although the language will be close to our modern one for evident reasons.**

**- Imagine the setting to be a crossover between the traditional European courts of the 1600's and the tales of Ali Baba and his forty guys.**

**There you go. Here's the first chapter, enjoy!**

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The slender figure slipped through the palace corridors, dressed in a white muslim night dress over which she had thrown an ermine-trimmed cloak, to cover her modesty and against the draught of the corridors. The guards stiffened in a silent aknowledgement as she drifted by, a candle in her bare hand.

Behind the feminine figure came two maids, who followed her, rubbing their eyes and yawning, however, the Princess must not go alone. The palace was supposed to be a secure place, but vandals could get in, it being so big; besides, no respected lady should be unattended when walking by night, and in such attire; this being the Princess herself, she was barely allowed to go to the bathroom without a whole crowd.

The Princess had awoken that night in a tired and cross state; it was plain summer, and even the bedrooms of Her Royal Highness were bound to be too hot. Sighing deeply, she had thrown herself in her cloak and slippers, and her maids, Parvati and Padma, two twins of her age, had immediately followed, bearing candles against the dim light.

The Princess arrived in the kitchens and took one quick glance around the place, before sitting down in front of a table. Parvati started lighting a few torches, and Padma brought them three cups made in silver and a bottle of honeydew wine.

"Cheers," she grumbled, sending a no-nonsense glance to the Princess who pinked slightly:

"Sorry, ladies. I will not forget now to keep drinks in the chambers," she announced in her cristal-clear voice.

"Yay," muttered Parvati in sarcasm before joining them; "you finally understood that we hate being awoken, Your Highness."

The Princess shot back a furious gaze and said,

"How many times exactly must I remind you to call me Hermione?"

Padma poured a second cup for them and retorted,

"Yeah right. So that the King your father can have our heads for not respecting our future ruler?"

"I didn't ask you to call me by my name when Father is around," snapped back the Princess. "Besides, given how you talk to me as if I was some commoner, it's not that far a step."

They giggled and soon retreated to their bedroom, where the twins flopped upon the makeshift beds near Hermione's, as they did two nights a week upon their shift.

Soon, the Indian servants were asleep, Padma even snoring slightly, and since Hermione was still too hot to do as much; she sat on a windowsill and breathed in the warm breeze.

Enough was enough: she was not tired enough to sleep like the twins, so she would tire herself. She decided that a bit of exercice would do that nicely. Hermione donned again her cloak and slippers and gazed at the twins; they seemed happy to sleep, and would be grumpy to wake, so she decided to leave them be. Besides, what would happen to her in the sleeping palace?

Hermione slipped out of the room and padded away on a random route. The palace was so peaceful at night. She wandered through empty corridors, relishing one of the rare times that she could actually roam unattended.

Suddenly, as she was silently walking past a long, dark corridor, she heard a tinkling noise, as if someone had just made something fall. The noise was followed by shuffling, then silence.

Hermione was not anything if not adventurous, which could put her royal person in trouble from time to time. If she were not her parents' daughter, she would have long been beheaded for such cheekiness.

Curious, Hermione scampered down the corridor at the end of which, she knew, lay the Treasure Room. The two guards in front of the doors seemed to be knocked out cold. Hermione's heart pitter-pattered in fear and excitement. She knew she should have turned back, knew she should have called for help, but she did not.

Instead, she slipped through the door, graceful and silent.

Hermione had been in this room before, so she cared not for the massive amounts of gold and jewels lined up against the walls, on the ground in heaps, in chests and on tables, in bags and sacks. Her attention was focused upon two people before her.

They were both male, and probably her age. One was tall, lean but all muscle, and had dark skin with beautiful features. The other was smaller and stockier and seemed broody, with chestnut hair. Another thing was obvious about them; they were thieves, stealing the royal treasure, shoving it into sacks at their feet, backs half-turned to her. Hermione's heart burst in indignation, and she silently picked up a sword near herself, its hilt embedded with rubies, trying to be brave and ignore the fact that the dark one had a wicked-looking dagger thrust in his belt, and that the other one's rapier swung at his side.

"You cannot ever shut up, can you, you clumsy, stupid fool," sneered the dark one.

The other rolled his eyes and whispered loudly back:

"Sorry, Ô Great King Of Duplicity and Shadows, but not everyone is as able as you to merge in the darkness and shut the hell up."

"Well, you should learn, Theodore," affirmed the dark one.

"Now, how about this for a change. You being the one to shut your trap lest you make our presence known, Blaise?"

"And how about I kick your non existent brains right out of your butt, you stupid commoner?"

"Well, how about I..."

"Oh, shut it already and get on with it, you bumbling idiot."

"Like anyone shall find us," muttered Theodore in an amused tone. "I mean, the King is just some kind of cruel bastard who lays taxes upon everyone and no-one, his wife the Queen is an unable sub, their guards are foolish enough to let only two of us walk through the entire place, and oh, let's just say that the daughter and heir must be some kind of nasty bitch rubbing her thick, greedy hands together while plotting for the throne, as the good daughter of tyrans she must be."

"Oh, I dunno," replied Blaise while closing his bag, "they say she's pretty. And that she's as sweet as the King is cruel."

"Yeah right," scoffed Theodore, closing his sack too. "Propaganda."

Blaise shrugged it off and turned around.

To meet the business end of a trembling sword pointed upon him and his partner in crime.

A lovely young woman their age was holding it, and she seemed wide-eyed and frightened, though she was putting on a rather convincing brave face. The three stared at each other for a while, then Blaise licked his lips and managed a seductive smile. He could easily push the terrified little thing away, but he did not wish to hurt an innocent. Theodore, he knew, would not have such qualms.

"Why hullo there, good maiden. Be careful, dear, that sword appears much too heavy for you. How about you put it down a minute?"

"So you can get out?" she retorted immediately.

Suddenly, her face scrunched up in a disgusted motion:

"And probably slit my throat before leaving," she added.

Her voice did not tremble, and her sword had steadied itself. Blaise could not help but be impressed. The adorable little thing did not seem so adorable any more. In fact, she seemed deadly serious. Too bad for her.

"I wish not to hurt an innocent," replied calmly Blaise, palms up, "but by all the dieties, love, if you move, I will have to do just that."

Her face grew colder and her sword motioned to the treasure in their sacks.

"Ah no? Then why do you steal the Kingdom? You are taking away the food and clothing of the poor. Is that not hurting innocents?"

Blaise and Theodore forgot a moment about the time they were losing to stare incredulely at her.

"Wow. You work in the kitchens, lass, to know nothing about where this money goes to?" asked Blaise slowly, in disbelief. "It is common knowledge that the King steals the poor to feed the rich. It is only right that we take some back."

"Nonsense!" she stomped her foot, glaring through narrowed eyes. "My f-I mean, the King would never do such a thing; he would not hurt anyone."

Suddenly, Theodore cut in, peering at her clothes:

"Hey, lass, but are you not wearing ermine? The very material reserved to royalty?"

She stilled, and the men's faces went from curious to lethal.

"Let's kill her," growled Theodore.

"No, Theo," cut frostily Blaise. "If she is royalty, then her murderous family shall come after us. We only want peace. Tie her up and leave her here."

"Yes, so that she can blabber away just how we look, and talk, and act when she is found? Kill her, I say!"

Blaise seemed torn. He did not want to hurt the girl, who was going a ghastly white as Theodore was speaking, but she was royalty, and by no means ready to befriend them, common thieves.

Suddenly, in a remarkable quick move, Hermione jumped back...

...And began screaming on the top of her lungs.

After all, it was her only escape route.

"Told you," hissed Theodore, grabbing the sacks and hauling them over his shoulders. "Darn that the place doesn't have a window around."

Blaise leaped on the girl, knocking her to the ground and the breath out of her lungs, but naturally, her knee came up to his groin, making him pant. Angrily, he slapped her, hoping to calm the minx, but she did nothing but wrestle, and finally bit his hand. When he was done, though, his shape and training gave him the upper hand, and he neutralized her.

Too late. Footsteps were running down the corridor.

"Now what, Master of Dealing with Impertinent Royal Maidens, Frenzied Guards and Escape Route All At Once?" hissed Theodore.

"Keep a hold on that money, you butt trumpet. She's our token out."

Theodore nodded in appreciation and burst the doors open, effectively stopping the stampeding guards a few meters away from the doors. Blaise followed him out, trailing a writhing, furious Hermione with him as if she was no more than an annoying mosquito, which infuriated her even more so.

"Please," muttered Blaise. "Please, dearest. Be quiet, play nice, and no-one shall be hurt."

"You wish, you common mongrel!"

"I resent that," he taunted, pulling her along.

The guards gasped and stopped all movement upon seeing her. Blaise glanced down, something akin to admiration in his gaze.

"Nice _tour de force_, lass. You must be someone of importance."

"Now," bellowed Theodore, strutting up to the guards, "throw your weapons. Leave us pass. And no-one, especially not the maiden, shall be hurt."

"Says who?" challenged a young guard. "You are only two. Whereas two thousand of us keep this palace!"

The next instant, the tip of Theodore's rapier was under Hermione's chin, drawing a few drops of blood. One elder guard swirled around to the youngster:

"You fool! Her blood has been drawn. The King shall have your head!"

Hermione blanched, and Theodore shot her a look of pure loathing before muttering,

"See what you lot do?"

She sneered back, and Blaise began pulling her again. The guards had dropped their weapons and backed up. The two thieves strolled almost leisurely to the palace doors, then a General's voice boomed,

"Get them! Alive if possible!"

The second after, a roaring wave of guards came hurtling out of the palace, hot on their tails. Blaise gagged Hermione swiftly, then the two thieves set off at full speed in the city, keeping the still fighting girl in case the guards caught them.

Blaise, Theodore and Hermione ended ducking into a dead end. The guards rushed past, screaming in fury. Blaise almost felt guilty as he felt the girl's tears fall on his fingers. But then he remembered who he was, what he was fighting for, and panted in Theodore's direction.

"Now what?"

"Kill the chit," decided coolly Theodore.

"No."

"No? _No_, Blaise? We are in it to the neck! Dead or alive, the girl is not worth it! The King's army shall still scour the world for us even _looking_ at his parent. So what big deal?"

"We should take her back with us," decided Blaise. "The Captain shall know what to do with her. As you said yourself, they'll never give up finding us. Best keep her to use as a joker, you know, a bargaining chip to use if things get nasty."

Theodore seemed to think about it, then shot Hermione a dirty look.

"Who is she, anyway?"

"Do we really care about that right now?"

"Guess not. I don't like the idea, to be honest."

"Well I do not care. She's coming and that is final. Besides, we screwed up because of her, it's only deal."

"Yeah. If ever she issues a threat..."

"You have my permission to kill her."

A short silence followed, only cut by the two thieves' shallow breathing and Hermione's moans and cries, muffled by the gag.

"We must reach the Inn of Four Roses," decided Blaise. "It is only three streets down."

They slipped out of their hiding spot and, although Hermione was gagged and trailed by the two criminals, no-one seemed to notice. It was mayhem. Guards were running about, seizing people, beating them to within an inch of their lives, while asking of the whereabouts of the two men and the young woman. Horses crushed dying people under their metal shoes, as guards mercilessly made them canter and gallop here to there.

Finally, the three of them reached a dingy, tiny place, with only a banner showing four roses hanging off the wall. They entered swiftly. The place was rammed full of men and women. Men were playing bets upon card and dice games, drinking far too much, smoking contentedly and trussing up prostitutes and servants. A few women joined in the men's fun. Theodore lost no time rushing up to the owner of the place, a small, old man who was smoking a long, curved pipe and watching almost lovingly upon his dear customers. Theodore whispered a few words into the elder one's ears, and the man turned briskly towards Blaise and Hermione, before nodding quickly and, with accurate speed, held out a hand in which Theodore dropped a few pieces of gold. Then, the man smiled, and beckoned for them to follow, swiftly moving out of the way of a flying knife. Apparently one game was getting a tad out of control. He simply chuckled and led them into a covered back yard. Hermione winced upon seeing a couple making out against a wall, and Blaise winced back in apology. She glared at him.

The man, without speaking, walked them into a stable in which several horses were saddled up and ready to go. Theodore made his pick and attached his bags of stolen goods to one saddle, as Blaise elegantly but quickly bustled Hermione onto another horse before leaping up behind her, knotting her hands with a piece of chiffon the old man gave him with a knowing nod, and took up the reins. Theodore threw another piece of gold at the old man, before cocking his head to a side and placing a menacing figure upon his lips to motion for silence.

The next thing Hermione knew, they were galloping full speed out of the city of Gryffindor, and right into the desert.

However, the young Princess was at this point fed up and, though aknowledging the tremendous speed they set themselves at, she threw herself to the left and tumbled off the horse. Ignoring Blaise's shouts and Theodore's curses, she then proceeded to run back in the direction the city stood on the horizon, its palace's roofs bright silver under the moon. All right, it was a petty plan, since she was on foot, gagged and wrists bound, and they were on horseback, and she had absolutely no shelter in the surrounding desert, but still...

A double set of pounding hooves thundered up towards her, and she was suddenly hauled back up by a strong pair of arms onto Blaise's horse. Cursing them all, she smacked an elbow across Blaise's pretty face, making him groan.

The next thing she knew, was a deep cracking to the back of her skull before all went dark.

Blaise looked down at the now limp little form in his arms then back to Theodore, not approving one bit.

"Damn the _bitch_," screeched Theodore while sheathing his rapier, the hilt of which had knocked the girl out cold, "what a nuisance. Well, do you think now she'll shut it until we arrive?"

"I think that with that blow, we're lucky she's not dead," replied coldly Blaise, "and she will not come around before tomorrow in any case."

"Oh, poor likkle thing," mocked Theodore in a sweet voice before they set off again. "She surely needed her beauty sleep anyway. Royalty sucks. Anyway, why do you care so much if she dies?"

"I care," boomed Blaise, "because the Captain will care. What do you think he will say if we stroll up announcing that the whole bloody country of Hogwarts is after our blood because of two sacks of gold, hm? You are lucky she's here, or the Captain may have just killed us and sent back our bodies to the King, so that the others of our clan shall be left alone."

Theodore seemed to muse over that.

"Yeah, sure. He would have, wouldn't he?"

Blaise nodded, smirking.

"Well, he would at least have had us thoroughly corrected, for sure."

They bellowed out laughing and trotted across the ocean of sand to who knows where.

They arrived in Slytherin's Pit barely an hour before dawn. Their beautiful city underground, their world of orphans, thieves, poor people, forced here by the ungodly rule of the tyrannic King of Hogwarts and his court in Gryffindor.

The horses slid down the dune towards the secret entrance; merely a hole under a slab of rock, only thick enough to file one by one in; they had to bow their heads a bit to not scrape the rock ceiling. At last, they came on an underground cavern, with a bright blue lagoon-like lake in the middle. This grotto was huge. Theodore stood before the waters and pulled his sleeve up, revealing his secret tattoo in form of an M around which curled a black rose, in the crook of his elbow, to the lake, before saying out loud, his voice echoeing around the cavern:

"I command thee, waters of Slytherin's Pit, to open afore us, noble members of the clan of Darkrose!"

For a second, nothing moved. Then, with enough noise to arouse the dead, making Blaise worried for the girl's life as she still would not wake, the waters began boiling in the middle, before parting themselves to the sand beneath; the two men clucked their horses forward, passing evenly. When they reached the other shore, five minutes later, Theodore turned to the lake once more, arm raised:

"We thank thee, waters of Slytherin's Pit, for having judged us and our quest noble enough to let us pass!"

The two then continued into a narrow, torch-lit corridor, without glancing back at the unfurling walls of water that frothed and danced around before stilling in a once again lake. They travelled on for another few minutes, then finally reached a tall, well-lit cavern, with four corridors leading from it, one of which being that they had just entered from. Immediately, the two men trotted forwards and crossed the front one; they arrived in the Chambers of Salazar, the place where the true members of the clan lived in opposition to Hufflepuff Cavern and Ravenclaw Grotto, where the poor who sought shelter came to hide under the Captain of the clan's protection. Here were thus the army quarters, if you can qualify a clan of well-trained thieves as such.

The first cavern of the Chambers was like the entry, the parlor: and it was not empty. Three men and a woman were standing there. The woman was dressed quite scantily, albeit prettily, her long black locks shimmering under the light. Her emerald eyes glittered in a gaze that knew no fear. Blades could be seen about everywhere over her body: several in her belt, crossed in her back, slipped in black seductive garters on both thighs, in the straps of her sandals, and even more dangerous were the blades that the woman did not show.

Two of the men were great, bulky things. They loomed like huge soldiers, bodyguards. And they were. They could barely read and even less write, but they sure could knock out several enemies at a time with fists like those.

The last man was dressed much like Theodore and Blaise, in a black tunic over black, poofy trousers and sandals. He had a sword at his side. However, this man was well over the two palace thieves. You could see it simply in his way of standing, of _being_. Besides, he wore emeralds in his weapon's hilt and a sole emerald in shape of a tear on a piece of string around his neck.

He was quite the sight. He was tall, all muscles though lean enough not to be thick, with white, almost translucent skin, aristocratic features, long fingers, and a perfect sense of hygiene. His hair was blond, nearly silver white. But the most beautiful about him wasn't his signature hair, his perfectly straight nose, his white teeth, or his pretty lips almost always turned up in a smirk. It was his eyes. They said that his eyes were more telltale than the devil's horns. Naturally a stormy grey, they would turn almost blue in his happiness and steel grey in his fury.

No-one, on Earth, had ever stood up to Draco Malfoy, leader of the Darkrose clan, and lived to tell the tale.

"There you are," he simply smirked in his attractive drawl. "We were wondering if you got lost."

The two bodyguards laughed out and one said,

"Yeah, Pansy here almost sent out a research party."

Theodore, Blaise, Draco and the other bodyguard sniggered. Pansy turned to the man, who was the shorter of the two, and hissed:

"If you do not shut it this instant, Vincent Crabbe, I shall introduce you to Helena. She is the blade that makes death long and painful. Same for you, Gregory Goyle."

The two shut up. Pansy was not a woman to cross. Some feared her even more than Draco Malfoy himself: she was without pity.

"Eventful?" asked Draco calmly.

The two thieves looked uneasily at each other and suddenly, Pansy pointed to the small slack figure over Blaise's saddle.

"Been raping poor, unsuspecting girls again, Zabini?"

He sneered down from his horse at her.

"Shut it, pug face. I've never raped anyone and you know it."

"Yeah, but seeing you go all red in the face was well worth the effort. Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Stop." commanded Draco, and everyone fell silent. Pansy and Blaise hated each other enough to kill, but they could fight their petty fights later on. "The girl? Explain."

"Well," started slowly Theodore. "We were in the treasure, plundering well and happy, when this chit appeared, wielding a sword twice to big for her arm, poor thing. She then screamed for the guards. They came and, since she was wearing ermine, we guessed that she was royalty."

Tension exploded in the room. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their impressive fists against their thighs. Pansy's hand went automatically for a knife wedged in her skirt band. Draco paled a tad in fury and his eyes narrowed.

"Tell me," hissed he. "Was she? Was the darn slut royalty of this land?"

"Oh, aye, she was," nodded warily Theodore. "We decided to use her body as a shield to get out. We were totally surrendered. Anyway, from the looks upon their faces, they were damn scared she would break a nail. Must be high up in the family, maybe a cousin of the King or something. So, we used her, and we were about to release her and leave, when a General decided to go after us. All Hell broke loose, and then the bastard guards were out in the city, killing and plundering and burning the whole lot. We managed to slip to the Inn and obtain horses to ride back. I was for killing the bitch, but Blaise decided not to, saying that the King was already out for our blood and that it was cautious for us to keep a bargaining chip. The girl. She is a damn pain in the arse, she is, jumped off the horse, even gagged and bounded. Just couldn't stay still. We had to knock her out."

Silence followed as he shrugged, and Draco seemed deep in thought. Then, maintaining a loathing, lethal gaze on the tiny limp form, he said,

"It was a good idea to keep her, even though I wouldn't have cared if the little whore was dead meat. Anyway, she is here now. What do you propose?"

Blaise cut in.

"She needs rest, and medical attention. She's been through quite her piece tonight. Tomorrow we can decide of her fate."

Draco nodded before adding in scorn,

"Quite through her piece, eh? Well, tell yourself that she probably murdered your kin or a hundred others'."

"Don't think so," replied coolly Blaise.

He had decided to protect the poor girl. She needed at least one voice for her.

"She's so young, Captain, you haven't seen her. And she seemed so afraid. She didn't even know how to yield a sword properly and, come to think of it, she did say we were stealing the poor in that room, eh Theo? And, she didn't scream blue murder until we actually talked about killing her. In fact, she only saved her life."

Pansy snorted, her fingers caressing a blade tip lovingly.

"Got a crush, Zabini?"

"Fuck off you snake!"

"Enough," cut quietly Draco. "Blaise, Pansy is right. Do not be fooled by her looks or her apparent weakness. Remember that it is always when an enemy seems harmless that it is the most dangerous. If she did not murder, then her family did, and she probably laughed along to their stories of it. She was alone against two outlaws, so she donned the coat of innocence to save herself."

Blaise shrugged. It was possible, of course, even very so. The ruling family, the blasted Granger clan, were known for their lack of mercy and their overflow of bloodlust and, as such, were quite able to come up with cunning plans.

"Perhaps, Captain. Still, for now she's out cold, so she needs a bed."

"Straw in the stables would be too good for the bint," hissed Pansy spitefully.

"Well, get her down," ordered Draco warily. "She might have a birthplate, it happens a lot in upper society, such as a necklace or a bracelet. Pansy, search her."

Pansy nodded despite the disgust and repulsion evident in her face. Blaise jumped down, stretched, and gently gathered his burden up in his arms before lying her down on the cold natural stone floor, and he softly wiped her messy brown curls out of her face. They all gazed down at her, realising, for the first time, including Blaise and Theo, how dainty and pretty she actually was. Though her face was bruised, her small, pink, pouty lips were set under a button nose, high, delicate cheek bones, in perfect white skin. Pansy growled and fell to her knees, one of her blades cutting away at the girl's ermine cloak attach. The men, except Draco who didn't care for now, coughed and slightly looked away when she was revealed in nothing but a muslim nightdress, and Pansy frowned upon fingering a golden necklace, quite modest, around her neck. On it was a small pendant representing a crown. Pansy examined it.

"Yes, definitely royalty," she muttered, causing a shiver of hate to go around the witnesses. She then looked at the tiny letters forming a name and she gazed at them, suddenly white, jaw slack.

"What is it, Pans?" asked swiftly Draco.

With almost trembling fingers, she handed him the pendant and chain after snapping it off the girl's neck. He figured out the name and smirked.

"Well, well, well. Our best prize ever, gentlethieves. You went out to fill a couple of bags with gold...and you come back having abducted none other than the great Princess Hermione Granger herself, heir of the Kingdom."

Draco looked back at the girl, his hatred even more fuelled if possible. The others blanched and gasped. Hermione Granger, the sole heir and their enemy, was in their grasp...

"Get her out of my sight."

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**There we go for chapter one. I don't yet know the update rate, as I have several other ongoing fictions, and a lot to do in my personal life, between work and Uni exams coming up. I apologize if the next chapter doesn't come fast enough for your liking.**

**If ever someone wants to beta'e this story- and/or my other ones- please, do speak up. I'd be delighted.**

**Please read and review and tell me what you think!**

**See you soon,**

**DramioneInLove**


	2. Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy, leader of the clan of Darkrose, generally known as the Captain, as he lead his clan as he would a ship, was sitting in his bedchambers, glaring into his goblet of wine and brooding.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He could not resent Blaise and Theo for bringing the Princess to their secret haven. It was their lives on the line and if Draco had became so popular as a leader, it was because, under his harsh demeanour, he cared for each and every living being in Slytherin's Pit. He would have done the same.

Now, however, she was going to become a problem. She would need constant surveying and protection. He could not let her go. If he did, even in ten years from now, they would lose their precious joker. He could not ask the Princess to meld into their society either. She would want their guts; after all, they were enemies, outlaws, and she was the heir of the bloodlusting Granger clan. Keeping her was not an option; letting her leave neither. People in this place would try to soak their hands in her royal blood. And keeping the Princess from about two thousand potential murderers, the last of which not being himself and his crew, his closest friends, was going to pose a huge problem. Hell, even if he set guards to her protection, they would probably try to hurt her!

Keeping her locked up and away from everyone but those in the secret already would not work. Word went faster than the wind, even here.

What to do?

Draco sighed, when suddenly, someone knocked on his door.

"Go away," he spat, not in the mood for idle chit chat. Not in the mood for anything, really.

Instead, the door opened, and a thin, pale figure with dirty blond hair slipped in. Two baby blue eyes stopped upon him. He groaned as Luna Lovegood flounced over to sit on his bed, across from him.

Luna was a Seer. If she was here, she had information for him. She had been able to see the future. And he had a feeling this was all about one new, unwanted arrival tonight.

"So," stated Luna in her dreamy voice. "She is here, at last."

"I won't even ask you how you know," drawled lazily Draco, twirling his goblet between his long fingers.

"I know all. I only come to you when times are troublesome for you," reminded gently the young girl.

"Yes," muttered Draco with heavy sarcasm, "I quite realised that the arrival of the Princess was going to be quite a problem, thank you very much."

Silence fell on the room, and Luna finally yawned.

"I am tired. My bed awaits me. However, know this, Captain. You must keep her. Whatever the cost. Letting her go shall only be a way for her father's history to repeat. However the Princess is not her father. She has her father's temper, but her mother's deeply kind, forgiving, generous nature. Do not let the Princess leave our midst, Captain."

"I was intending on keeping her," retorted Draco. "However, the question is, what to do with her?"

Luna glanced at him, then sauntered back in her ethereal way to the door.

"For that I shall not help, Captain. Keep her however, but keep her well."

With those parting words, she left. Well, at least he knew that he must keep her. But how to retain the bint?

Frustrated, Draco stood up and got ready for bed.

...

The first thing that registered when Hermione came to was that she was not in her bedroom. She was in a kind of grotto with marble walls, in a plush bed surrounded by white curtains.

The second thing she realised was, what had happened before the thief had knocked her out.

The last, but certainly not the least, thing was: a cold blade was held securely against her throat.

Hermione's fluttering eyes drew up to a pair of taunting, icy cold, emerald eyes, set in a face that could be beautiful save for the pug nose, which still left her very pretty, and long, straight black hair. A frosty hand was holding a knife against her throat without trembling the least. The stranger was not hurting her, but should Hermione move an inch, she would draw blood.

So Hermione did the only thing she knew. To be herself, that meaning: stupidly brave, witty, annoying, and cheeky. Years of practicing against her father's fickle mistresses had brought that last talent to its upmost point. So she coughed slightly, then burst out happily but with burning sarcasm:

"Why, hello there. I absolutely love to wake up like this in mornings. Nothing quite like birds chirping on the windowsill, scents of fresh breakfast, and a knife menacing to slice your throat to start a day, hm? Well, scratch the birds and breakfast, but still, lovely to meet you."

Pansy's eyes opened wide in disbelief. Was the girl actually mocking her? Her eyes narrowed then and the blade point nicked flesh, drawing a drop of blood. Hermione's smirk turned even wider. She had no doubt that, by now, they knew who she was; she could not feel her birthplate on her neck any more.

"You do know that where I come from, that simple act would cost you the most awful of deaths, do you? Yes, of course you do. Drawing the heir's blood...oh, gasp. Then again, I note that you know the value of blood well enough to only draw a drop. Must have been all of the people you madmen playing thieves slaughtered that finally registered the expense of human life in your petty little brains."

Pansy was about to explose her load. No-one had ever spoken to the great Pansy Parkinson, Lady of Blades, that way without feeling a painful death. However, Hermione seemed content to smile sweetly up at her, even batting her eyelashes. _Why the little_...

Just as Pansy was about to cut the Princess' throat, all be damned, a chuckle interrupted them. Blaise sauntered from behind the curtains, apparently having heard all that was going on. Pansy's eyes narrowed to slits and she stood to focus on this new, greater danger.

"She certainly knows how to tell you off, does she not, Parkinslut?"

Pansy flicked a tendril of hair behind an ear, her gaze calculating. Then she smiled dangerously.

"Oh, that she does, darling," she simpered back. "However, what I was wondering was if she sucked your cock off well enough to have a special place in your heart?"

Pansy glanced down at the confused girl, and her smirk widened.

"Gosh, but are Her Highness' chaste ears...chaste?" she mocked, laughing in delight. "Don't know what sucking cock is, Granger? Why, I'm absolutely sure Zabini here is willing to teach you a good lesson."

"Actually, Parkinson," replied Blaise in a bored tone, "you being the queen of giving head, I was hoping that you'd at least give the girl a little theory before I put us through the practical details. Now get out. The nurse wants to see her, and it's my turn to guard her."

"Well then, Zabini, _guard_ her well, if you see what I mean," taunted Pansy, striding off, "and as for being queen of fellatio, well, can't really say you've tested, have you? Not _man_ enough."

A door slammed and Pansy was gone. Blaise ruffled his hair and sat in the minx' place, smiling weakly at the captive:

"Sorry for that. Pansy is a bit...well a little...Pansy."

The look Hermione sent him was cold enough to make him recoil slightly, and he had grown up with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. She sat up and crossed her arms, still glaring coldly. Unconcerned, Blaise picked his nails.

"Don't give me that Thee-Hast-To-Be-Guilty look," he added. "How am I supposed to call you, by the way?"

"Well," drawled Hermione. "You actually entered my home without asking, stole from the Kingdom's treasure, menaced me, hurt me, abducted me, a royal Princess, knocked me out cold and decided that some psychotic woman would nurse me back to life with her spooky face, so I guess that at this point, you can call me anything you want. A little rudeness won't kill you now."

"What would you liked to be called?"

"Like to be called? Oh yes, I know. Your Highness! As it is my title for God's sake...but you wouldn't bend low enough to do that would you?"

"If you want me to call you Your Highness then I will," he answered softly.

Tears brimmed up in her eyes but he only got a glimpse of them before she turned her back to him and lied down on her side.

"I don't want you to call me anything. Just go away."

He sighed and tried again.

"I-"

"I would quite like that nurse now," she replied in muffled tones due to the lack of oxygen her pillow was according her.

Blaise sighed again and stood, walking around the curtains to give her some privacy while Nurse rushed in.

Hermione's eyes lifted to a woman in her early fifties, with a kind, round, maternal face, cheeks bright pink in sign of good health, a genuine smile upon her lips and true nice feelings in her eyes. Well, if someone was going to be nice to her before she was killed in the hands of those rogues, Hermione was not going against it. She smiled back a huge grin, and the nurse began cooing around her.

"Oh, my dear, dear child. Look at what those little scallywags have done to you, my sweet! Such a lovely little thing you are too. How am I supposed to call you? Your Highness? Miss Granger?"

"Well..." Hermione bit her lip. "Can I tell you a secret, nurse?"

"Of course, darling child!"

Well, the woman could not exactly tell her nice little patient that Blaise Zabini was just on the other side of the curtain and hearing everything, but only by precaution in case Hermione attacked her, so she beckoned Hermione on.

"Well, you see, everyone has called me Princess or Your Highness all my life, even my parents," she admitted, reddening. "I think-I would like, for once, to be called Hermione. Just that. Hermione. After all, my parents are not here to give me a whipping for allowing such things, nor to behead you," she added sadly.

Both Blaise and the nurse were shocked. Honestly? Whipping your daughter and killing people because they gave her a blasted name? That was hers?

"I would love that," exclaimed brightly the nurse instead. "Well, my name is Madam Pomfrey, but you can call me Pompom. All right?"

"Oh! Yes, thank you, Pompom!"

"Good! Now, Hermione dear, lie down on your right side, that's it, love. Stretch your arm...there. Does it hurt here?"

"It's supportable. Pompom?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"Are you with the people who are here?"

"What do you mean, darling? Unfold, thank you."

"I mean those people who hurt me and all."

"Well, I am nurse here, but upon the purposes of everyone's presence, the others shall explain that better to you. Roll over...nice. That is healing, I doubt it will even leave a scar."

"Will they kill me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that, Hermione?"

"Well...they steal. They abduct. They have no morals upon hurting women. And they swear," she shuddered, making Blaise retain a laugh in his fist. "Anyway, if they had not been stealing in the palace last night, all those people in the city would have not been hurt, right?"

Blaise's stomach plummeted to his ankles. He had not thought of things that way that, although twisted, held a part of truth.

"You know, our lads are not responsible for the guards' actions, dear."

"Yes, they are. If they did not hurt and kidnap me, then my parents would not have ordered the attack. If they had only left, leaving me be..."

She sighed deeply then, after a moment's silence, she muttered,

"Do you think that it is my fault, Pompom? That people were killed and hurt? I don't want anyone to suffer because of me. But I must, you see? I am to be Queen one day. And my father says that it is my role as Queen."

"Child, you have much to learn," cooed Pompom before leaving. "I am sorry for you."

"Don't," retorted Hermione. "Do never feel pity for me. A Princess is feared, not pitied."

"Yes," murmured Pompom as she exited the curtained area. "Much to learn. Drink that goblet, child: you need to sleep."

Moments later, Hermione was slipping into the deep bliss of slumber, and Pompom wacked Blaise over the head with a clean towel, scowling deeply.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he moaned.

"You obviously did not realise how much harm you did to Hermione. She is no commoner. All her injuries have been attended with the best at once. You could have severely damaged that frail little flower over there."

"You, Pompom, are being nice to a patient instead of your hurried old self?" whispered Blaise in disbelief. Did the Princess have some kind of trick to turn the sour nurse into a loving, caring mum?

"I am not old," she scowled again, hitting him over the chest with the towel. He winced, guessing he really had not stolen that one.

"Go back to her side," hissed the nurse. "Next time, Zabini, I want more private conversation with her. You shall leave."

"But if-"

"The girl isn't in a state to even get up. Next time you leave," she commanded in a harsh voice. "Now go. I must report to the Captain."

The Captain was unimpressed by the report. The girl's injuries would heal, and she was a...a sweet little thing? Wait, was Pompom, the female shark, really saying that? About a Princess?

"...cute," added Pompom. "Such mannerism..."

"Of course she's got flipping manners, she's a Princess," pointed out Draco.

"Never been called by her name before..."

"Thats what you get by making everyone call you Highness," he assured bitterly.

"She absolutely hates all of you and makes you responsible for the murders that happened in the town."

"Oh! Tell me about it! Murder freak, daughter of Madman and Assassin, trials us for that?" he cut in disbelief.

"She's lost and alone and young and she wants to go home!" bellowed Pompom.

"Well she just cannot! Final is final, Pomfrey!" stated Draco in fury.

Pompom glared, then stormed out back to her Hospital Wing.

Draco rubbed his temples tiredly. This was not going to be easy.

Not one bit.

…

When Blaise left, after several aborted attempts to make the Princess talk to him, it was Theodore who took over. He sat down bluntly and gazed at her in menace, toying with the hilt of his rapier, in a clear warning. Hermione returned her best I-Am-Not-Impressed look and lay down, closing her eyes.

If she knew her little stroll in the palace by night, alone, would have brought so much upon her...she thought about the horrible sights she had seen in the city. She had never seen someone die before. And it hurt her so much to not being able to do anything. She thought of how much her parents must be worried, too...wait, scratch that. Her father had lost his sole heir and was full of the hatred coming from the knowledge that a pair of desert thieves had bested his whole battalions. Her mother must be consumed in sickness now. She already was, because of her husband's mistress', and now she had lost her only child, the only thing that kept her in this world. She shed a tear in silence, hiding it from her kidnapper. Then there were Padma and Parvati, her twin servants and friends, too. The King must not have spared them for letting her out of her chambers alone, albeit unknown. Oh, and so many guards must have suffered the wrath of the King. All because of her. She was not really worth more than those who were keeping her prisoner, was she?

She started crying, hiding her head in her arms so that Theodore would not see her, but after a while, her body-wracking sobs were noticed by the thief. He sighed and stopped playing with his rapier. Bloody hell, what could he do with this woman?

"You may leave now," stated a female voice near him. "I shall take over."

Theodore glanced up at the slender figure with red hair and soft brown, warm eyes, that went cold when seeing Hermione. It was another of the crew.

"Thanks, Ginny. I'm sure you'll do much better with a crying chit than me."

Ginny Weasley rolled her eyes.

"As if. The bint only got what she deserved. Now, move."

Theodore strolled out of the hospital wing and Ginny sat, glaring at the woman. She was known for her fiery, unforgiving temper and boldness. The effects of being the young sister of six brothers, probably. She could be a warm, loving person...but not towards members of royalty.

Hermione glanced up to the cold eyes of the redhead beauty, and sniffled before wiping her eyes upon her tattered sleeve.

"I'm surprised," snorted Ginny, "that you don't demand a handkerchief for wiping your precious face."

"And if I asked for one, would I get it?" snapped back Hermione.

Ginny smirked in pleasant surprise.

"My, my, who would have known? You actually have courage."

"Yes, sure," spat Hermione, "because I have a reason to fear you."

"Well, actually, you do," noted Ginny, crossing her arms, "since I can kill you after all and make it look like you died naturally, from a simple cold."

"Oh, yeah, because you are a witch or something, right?"

"No," replied Ginny, eyes twinkling in malice, "because I am a poison brewer."

Hermione tutted in disbelief:

"Oh, so you really are all murderers here, are you not?"

"That's rich," laughed Ginny, "coming from the daughter of the most murderous King to ever have ruled Hogwarts."

Hermione glared angrily at the girl, who seemed slightly younger than herself.

"My father is no assassin."

"No need to protect yourself behind lies. If we want to execute you we shall still do so. Lying won't save your pathetic self, you know."

"I am not lying. Father only kills people who deserve it."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Ginny in a furious voice. "So when His Sick Majesty decided to kill my parents simply because they refused to give up their whole harvest, only to feed their children, was that deserved?"

"Now you are the one who is lying," shouted Hermione. "Father would never do that."

Ginny slowly shook her head, watching Hermione with an unkind and wary eye.

"Keep telling yourself that, you whore."

Hermione bristled.

"How dare you call me that? I am Princess of Hogwarts!"

"Exactly my point," hissed Ginny. "Now shut up. I'm fed up with hearing your stupid tales."

She brushed a damp finger across Hermione's bare wrist and almost instantly, the girl fell asleep. Ginny smirked. She loved what poisons could do. With a bit of luck, the Princess would even have an uneasy stomach when she would wake.

Ginny stood up and marched to the Meeting Room, where the Greats would be holding a meeting upon the Princess' destiny.

As she entered, she noticed she was the last, and looked up to the head if the table:

"Sorry, Captain. Chit wouldn't stop chatting. I had a long go getting her to sleep."

"I hope that you only made her sleep, Ginny," retorted Draco seriously, "and that you did not kill her."

Ginny rolled her eyes and flicked out a seat before sitting.

On Draco's right was Pansy, then Theodore, then Ginny, and two other men. On his left came Blaise, Luna, Crabbe, Goyle, and another man, and finally a beautiful woman. Draco coughed.

"Right. You all know what we are here for. We must decide of the Princess' fate."

"Kill her," said immediately Pansy in a hopeful voice, while playing with the smooth double blade of a knife.

"It is not a good idea," reminded Blaise. "Joker, remember?"

"What good is that," snapped back Pansy, "if we sell her back to Daddy dear and then they come for us? And they will. What is more is that she can tell them all about our secret city. One way or another, we'll have the King's army behind us. If we dispose of her, she won't give them information, won't ever rule on Hogwarts like her mad family, and we'll have at least that satisfaction. Kill. Her."

Blaise muttered something that might have been "bloodlusting bitch", but many around the table nodded in agreement to Pansy's speech. Draco looked past the woman to Theodore.

"Theo?"

"I think like Pansy. We should kill her. It's not worth it, at all. However, we must keep her alive long enough to make her tell us what she knows of her parents' evil plans. We might save people that way and make stealing easier."

"Ginny?"

"Oh, I'm in it as well. We should kill her. No need to try and talk her into giving up any information though. She seems to think that her parents are true angels. Now truth or lie I know not, and since we never torture, she shall not give anything up."

"Harry?"

Harry Potter, the man on Ginny's left, closed his emerald green eyes and answered:

"I do not want to kill her. We are thieves, remember, not murderers? We are not like the Granger kin."

"We do kill if we need," reminded hotly Ginny.

"If we need, exactly, Ginny. Do we really need to slaughter her? No. This is nothing more than seeking revenge upon a girl whose parents are killers. She can come in handy as a joker, sure...but mindless of that thought, I, for one, shall not kill anyone out of cold blood."

A short silence followed this. Then Draco asked:

"Seamus?"

Seamus Finnegan shook his head slowly and muttered in a thick accent:

"Aye, ah'm no murderer, lads, but this 'uns special. Killin' 'er will get 'er arse off the throne fer ever. Wiv a lil hope, 'twill be the end of the Grangers."

Draco turned to the other side of the table.

"Blaise?"

"I do not want her to die."

"In love, bastard?" mocked Pansy.

Draco shot her a hard look, telling her to shut it.

"Luna?"

"You know my advice, Captain. Do not let the girl leave. Either way, her death is useless."

"Vincent?"

Crabbe rubbed his hands together, looking murderous:

"Get her killed, quick and fast, and let's finish this bullshit."

"Hm. Gregory?"

Goyle slammed a meaty fist upon the table, making it creak in protest, and spat,

"Yeah, Vince is right. Just kill her already."

"I see. Dean?"

Dean Thomas shook his head furiously.

"Harry is right. Why kill her? Satisfaction? It is against our rules, remember, to kill the innocent, and I daresay she is. We have always heard of the King's orders, of his wife's advice, but we know little of the girl. No-one ever sees her outside the castle and no-one is allowed near her. She doesn't hit me as the murderous kind."

"Daphne?"

The beautiful, lascive blond smirked up at Draco. Daphne Greengrass opened her silky, smooth mouth:

"Death to the bloodlusting bint sounds good to me," she purred.

Draco counted quickly in his head. Five wanted to save the Princess, including himself, and seven wished to kill her. He would want her death too, but not on his hands. His voice counted two, but it would not suffice.

"Well," he sighed. "Let's vote."

He announced:

"Those who wish to spare the Princess' life, raise your hand!"

Blaise's hand shot up instantly, followed by Harry, Dean, Luna, and himself. Draco waited an instant, not knowing what for, a miracle perhaps...

Then finally, the miracle came.

Shyly at first, but more and more assured as she made the move slowly, Ginny's hand raised.

"Seven against six, my voice counting for two," reminded Draco with well-hidden relief.

Pansy scoffed rudely,

"Weasley, you really have a problem. Why must you always be Potter's little dog? Just get him shag you already!"

The redhead blushed and Harry adverted his gaze, but Ginny replied hotly:

"False, Parkinson. Though Harry has perfect advice, I decided that indeed, death was calling too much."

"Yeah, sure," sniggered Pansy in disgust. "Now what? The Princess gets to live, but what to do with her?"

"Well, perhaps she can take a place in our society," said slowly Blaise.

"Are you crazy?" cut Daphne, sitting up. "She hates us all! And our citizens hate her too. What are you wanting, her death? Death of members of our city, maybe even of the crew itself?"

"Yes, I agree," stated Theo. "She should be shut up in a room and guarded."

"And how long would that go on for?" interrupted harshly Dean. "Her whole life? If it is that, we sould really have killed her. Like putting a beast out of suffering. Can you imagine it?"

"Well, prisoners in the King's jails get worse, and I should know it," growled lowly Gregory.

Unease fell upon the room, but Draco cut in,

"Remember, do not compare with ourselves and our history. Keep that out of official meetings."

"Listen here," said Harry. "I know that this will seem mad to you all, it seems so even to myself..."

"Then don't say it and shut up," said Pansy.

"But," continued Harry as if he had never been interrupted. "Why don't we mix the two up?"

Draco perked up.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well. We could lock her up somewhere part of the time. Like at nights and on lunch and dinner breaks, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"The rest of the time, well, she cannot blend in society because her life is at bay, and maybe lives of our citizens are too, remember?"

New nods.

"So, the only people who really could present a threat to her are the Greats, so, us, see? We are all over-trained to fight. So, she could be locked up at night and all, and the else of the time, be with one of us."

A silence met his words, then Ginny quipped up:

"What do you mean, with one of us?"

"Yes, exactly that. She could follow one of us during the day. Help us with tasks, and everything. For example, grooming the horses or sewing stuff while we train or something, you know, whatever the day asks for."

"But which one of us?" asked Blaise curiously.

"Well, we could change everyday."

"Yeah," muttered Seamus. "T'Princess as a servant."

"That is not what I meant. Besides, what good would she be at that? She never learned to do servant things. The tasks we give her will only be to occupy her mind and hands and keep a hold on her. Just don't let her wander out of sight, you know."

A silence followed, then Draco said,

"Seems good to me. So, who is up with Harry's plan?"

To his surprise, every single hand shot up. Now he must be careful and not let the crew mistreat the girl while she was in their care.

"Oh my," muttered Blaise in sarcasm. "Isn't Pompom going to be proud of us."

**0o0o0o0o0**

**Thank you for your follows. Please read and review.**

**DIL.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, everyone.**

**So, I am publishing this a little early, but there is a good reason for that.**

**For those who don't know, I'm a Brit, but I live in France since several years. And for those of you who are not lucky enough to live in a lost cave somewhere in Antartica, with pinguins as friends, as is my everlasting dream- just kidding, but it's something along those lines and I've never admitted that I'm not a Disney princess who can befriend birds and squirrels and whatnot- well, you know what happened to France during these past three days.**

**In this story, as we will see later, King Edward is a madman. His crazed beliefs cause him to wreak havoc upon his own country. Hermione is hope. The hope of everything that's good, everything that is worth standing for. This chapter is my response to those foolish enough to believe that they can conquer light with darkness, beauty with horror, and unity with their own delusional beliefs. Because Unity is important. Had Hermione not met the thieves, all hope would have been lost- as it is, together,_ they are strong_.**

**Together, _we are strong_. We can stop terror. We can stop madness. We can, together, overthrow a mountain with a flick of the nail. **

**And this story, is of course a fictional romance, but it is also a story about hope and unity. I hope it will help, in its own way, with its words strung together and every emotion it may cause in its readers, to spark hope and unity. That is why I am publishing the next chapter tonight, and not in a few days.**

**I wish you a very nice read. **

**...**

Hermione was left in the dark in regards to the crew's decision until Pompom decided that she could leave the hospital wing, three days later. Blaise smiled and said,

"Follow me, Princess. And do not try to bolt, you would not go anywhere and you would only result in angering us."

Hermione simply glared at him and replied in her best regal voice, which Blaise secretly found quite impressive,

"What would it change in my fate, as you foolish brutes are to murder me anyway?"

"You are not going to die," replied Blaise, making her jaw go slack in surprise and her eyes widen, "unless you ask for it, and trying to flee would be asking for it. Now, come."

Hermione decided that if she wanted to escape later, she should comply for now. Besides, she did not know where they were at all, as she had been out cold while arriving, and needed information upon her whereabouts.

She thus stalked, sulking, by her captor's side as they left Pompom's pompomdom.

They crossed a wide corridor carved in rock, well-lit by torches, and soon came upon a huge cavern, making Hermione's eyes widen once more because of the savage beauty of the place. The furniture was of the best kind, and thick rugs were strewn across the stone-flagged floor. They made it in silence to the door on the other side, through an arcade and into a bigger room. Blaise, who was secretly but surely observing the girl's reactions, smiled to see that even the Princess was impressed by the beauty and the richness of their dwellings.

"Is this place that big?" she asked suddenly.

"It goes on for kilometres," affirmed Blaise.

"And all so pretty and nice?"

"Well, this is the nicest part, because it is the crew's wing of the city, but citizen's homes are nice too. These are common parts of course, free for everyone of the crew and their families to roam."

"I don't understand what you are talking about. Crew? Citizens?"

"I'll explain later."

"Does all of this come from stealing?"

"In the common parts, yes. We are thieves, remember?"

"Yes. How many people did you murder, how many children did you leave in orphanage, how many women did you assault to rob them?" she asked, voice dripping in disdain.

To Hermione, everyone had a right to live. No-one should steal that, or others' happiness, in order to gain something for themselves. Unless the victim was criminal. One thing was for sure, give Hermione the chance and she would sentence _these_ criminals to death.

Blaise seemed taken aback, and spluttered,

"We don't kill! Not if we can help it."

"Yet you are all trained to do so."

"No. We are trained to be thieves."

"What difference, if you are criminals all the same!"

Blaise sighed. He really, really believed the girl thought that too. She did not seem to be a beast like her father.

"We've arrived."

He motioned to a door sitting in the wall of a cavern, and she entered.

"Your rooms," said Blaise as she looked around in awe.

A huge bed upon thick, plush rugs was pushed against the far wall proudly. Four men could sleep in it without a care for space. Several plump armchairs were scattered before a low table in front of a roaring fire. Another door led to a bathroom in which the bath ressembled more a swimming pool and had golden taps, and yet another to a huge closet already brimming with dresses and shoes that, though far from being the clothes that the royal heir donned back in Gryffindor, were not those of a commoner either. Noble clothing. The bedroom was decorated in colors of red and gold, and she loved it. It was personal, not like the cold-looking, regal room she had back in the palace, where in the mornings people stood at the end of her bed by tens and watched her royal awakening and daily blessing. She would have her parents decorate it this way when she returned.

"Is it to your liking?" asked Blaise, interrupting her inner musings.

She was not going to tell her captor that she found it marvelous, so she snapped back,

"Well, I guess it will have to suffice. Are you asking me to be picky when I have no saying upon my own rights, namely, my freedom?"

He smiled, conceding that to her. Even if it really displeased her, and he knew it did not, it wasn't changing.

"Well, I guess we have some talking to do."

She sat down in front of the fire and motioned him to do the same. He coughed and launched himself.

"My name is Blaise Zabini and I am a member of the crew. You see, we live in this secret society, far from Gryffindor, in the desert, I must not tell you where. About two thousand people live here."

Her jaw dropped but she said nothing.

"Most of the people are living here as they would in a real, outside town. There are schools, and shops, and a hospital. There is a big lake where fishermen fish and people bathe. Some breed livestock and some harvest the underground soil. Those everyone refers to as the citizens. Then, there is, if you can call it that way, the higher society, though it isn't really as we have nothing like that here. No money- everything is on a trade basis. Anyway, that's the crew. I'm part of it. We are about fifty, and we are thieves. You see, sometimes you cannot only count on what you produce, and you go low on stock, and you then have to visit Gryffindor or other towns in order to buy what is needed but, as we have no money, we must take it. We see it as what the country owes us. However, we only steal from the rich and wealthy. The poorest person I have taken from was a land owner who had over three castles. Anyway, we steal, and we free slaves and whatnot."

"A criminal city," growled Hermione.

"No. The Captain will explain that better to you," decided Blaise. "The Captain is our chief and the founder of this society; people here are a mix of freed slaves, orphans, widowers, elderly people, beggars, and people who were condamned to death because they did nothing. And by nothing I mean something as trivial as coughing when a soldier walked past them in a bad mood or anything."

"Liar," muttered Hermione.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"You tell that to the Captain," retorted Blaise. "His name is Draco Malfoy. Anyway, on with the point. The crew also manages the whole city. We are police, we are funds and we are judge. At the head of the crew sits a council of twelve. I am one of them. We make important decisions and all, a bit like ministers. We are called the Greats by most of people here. So, we, the Greats, decided not to kill you and not to let you leave; I find you witty, and I think you quite clever, you'll figure out why easily. Anyway, what happens is this: you'll be locked in this room and heavily guarded in the nights and when none of the Greats can survey you. Each day, one of us shall fetch you, and you may follow us around and divert yourself with sewing or reading or something while we go about our business. Right?"

For now Hermione decided wiser to nod quietly, stocking the information. She then asked,

"Can you then tell me more about the people, the...Greats? Who will survey me."

Blaise rubbed his hands together and muttered,

"Well, where to start?"

"With you, silly," retorted the Princess, rolling her eyes.

"Ah! Yes. Well, I am one of the Captain's greatest friends. I've been beside him since childhood. Our parents were slaughtered, you see."

She winced and bit her lip. He smiled in reassurance, not wanting to tell her that it was the King who had ordered on a whim for their village to be burned to a crisp.

"So, he decided to do this and though I thought him mad, I followed. After, it became easy...we came to this place aged fourteen. Six years ago. The place built itself up, and our society expanded, with still new arrivals nearly daily. I'm well trained in the art of becoming a shadow, willing myself into darkness, donning disguises. You see?"

She nodded and he continued.

"Then, Theodore. He was another survivor from our village and we knew him. He's quiet and harsh, but he's been through a lot, so...anyway, he found us a few weeks after we got here. He is a real master in gathering knowledge about our enemies or for future stealing; he knows and is known by every single criminal out there, but unlike most of them he has honor. He's quite cold-handed though.

You awoke to Pansy the other day. Well, Pansy. We knew her too from childhood, even though she lived in a different village. She is a scornful pain in the behind, and nasty too, though very clever. They call her the Queen of Blades. She has weapons all over her body. Legs, arms, torso...she is not a woman to cross. A real nightmare. She has always been quite inverted, but beware. She's faster than the best when flicking a blade.

After, who have you met? Ah, yes, of course. Ginny. She's quite warm and sweet once you get to know her, and she quite likes playing pranks too. She's the youngest of six brothers, so nothing comes in her way. She's very nice and all, but to her enemies she holds little pity, without Pansy's bloodlust though. She's an expert in poisoning, knows each and every plant in the world by heart.

The others you have not met yet. Luna is a Seer; she has visions. In Hogwarts, Seers are put to death, but it is very useful to have one. She may seem dreamy and frail, but she is trained as well, and shall show no pity if the need is.

Harry is a good guy, really wise if a little...impulsive. He's nice, very much so. He's grand with a sword in hand. I'm sure that if you had to get along with anyone here, it would be him.

Seamus is not from Hogwarts, and he was a pirate before coming here. He's unforgiving, and he swears more than he talks; he has little to no manners either, but he's a really good guy should you get to know him. Champion in explosives too, and quite a hit with gunpowder weapons.

Then you have Dean, Seamus' best mate. He's quite the gentle person. Dean is, you could say, our nurse. He has a soothing voice, sings beautifully and plays even better. People like him because he doesn't harm anyone if he can help it and he tends quickly to help us should we be hurt when stealing, as we can't bring Pompom with us. He'll replace her one day as head of the crew hospital where you have been staying. Though if needed, he can be quite the man with a dagger.

Daphne is probably the prettiest and one of the most dangerous of the crew. She's a wanton woman, too, and is often sent as a diplomat, because of her ability to seduce anyone to have her way, and also into men's beds if needed for a mission. She'll slice your throat while smiling, and she may be even worse than Pansy, because Pansy does so as her temper is short, but Daphne does it by liking. She's calculating though, and shouldn't hurt you...unlike Pansy. Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, is what you may call a whore. Beware. However, you'll not be in Astoria's care as she is not a Great, but mere member of the crew. Beside that, Daphne is invincible or almost with a rope or a whip or a leash; she can lasso you and break your neck in a second. That, and she loves her dagger.

As for the Captain...you'll manage him, I'm sure. He's charming, and clever, but he won't hurt you unless you push him to do just that. Quite the catch, too, but he likes to play with woman, so...careful."

Blaise trailed off, and Hermione, carefully storing the information, cast him a disgusted look,

"As if I'd ever want to _play_ with him or with any of you for that matter! But you forgot two people."

"Yeah, Vincent and Gregory. You need not to mind; they are wardrobe-huge and rock-hard and they are bodyguards, but also the Captain's friends. Those two won't be guarding you anyway."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Now come. I'll show you around."

...

The next day, Hermione was awoken at what must have been dawn to glittering, emerald eyes, set in quite a handsome face, with jet-black ruffled hair, a scar in the form of lightning on the forehead, and a huge grin that almost made her want to mimick it.

"Hello, Your Highness," said the young man. "Sorry to wake you, but if you'd like some breakfast, they don't serve it after six in the morning for the Greats. They like to take away our fun and sleeping in."

She couldn't help but laugh as he pouted, and got up. He averted his eyes and blushed upon noticing that she only wore a nightdress made out of simple white cotton and she smiled.

"Oh, come on! Back at the palace, at least fifty people saw me get up every morning."

His eyes widened:

"What? What for?"

"Duties, tradition and all, you know. Women must not be seen in such a way, except the Queen and heir when it is a girl. They have the honor..." she winced, "to see me getting blessed and all when I awaken."

He stared at her, then muttered,

"Weird."

"Yes, I know," she giggled.

Really, this boy's visible niceness was getting to her.

"By the way, name's Harry, Harry Potter," he said as an afterthought. "I would bend down on one knee and kiss your hand, but I must be the clumsiest guy in the world, so if you don't mind, Your Highness, I'd rather not make a fool of myself and fall flat on my face."

She burst out laughing. Blaise was right. If she could befriend one person here, it was this Harry.

"Don't worry, I don't mind in the least. And stop with the Highness stuff. Call me Hermione."

He seemed uneasy.

"Are you sure?"

"I am. Only two people in the world call me that, the other person being Pompom," she replied, eyes twinkling. "Second will be you." She thought it over, then added in a cold voice, "you are the only one though. I don't want others calling me that. They are all so nasty. Except Blaise, but he abducted me, so I cannot really go around asking him to call me that, can I?"

Harry coughed and replied meekly.

"Um, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Anyway," he brightened up, "what about you get dressed, Hermione? My stomach is starting to plot to murder me. If I don't get breakfast, I'm afraid it will succeed."

Upon another burst of laughter, Hermione threw on a light blue dress and pulled her hair up in a twist, before taking Harry's offered arm and following him to the Dining Cavern.

"Who will be at breakfast?" she asked, suddenly uneasy.

"All of the Greats," he replied.

She slowed down and muttered,

"Oh, no. Besides, they all hate me, and I wonder why."

Harry stopped to look at her, gravely, his body tense.

"Are you really asking why, Hermione?"

She shrugged.

"Because I'm rich, because I'm royalty while they are thieves and criminals?"

He stared at her in silence for a while.

"Only part of your answer is right. They do hate you, enough to shed your blood, because you are royalty."

"But why?" she blurted out. "I don't understand what I did wrong, or my family for that matter. It's not my fault I am born heir of Hogwarts Kingdom!"

He seemed uneasy suddenly.

"Hermione, what do you know of politics?"

"Little," she replied in confusion. "Father wished to include me in such business only upon my twenty-first birthday in a few months, when I shall be considered an adult. Why?"

"Because, to say it nicely, at the least, your parents, and especially your father, are very bad rulers."

"Well, maybe, but ruling is a difficult task, yes? You cannot really ask people to be able to plant gold when you give them charcoal seeds. They try, hard, but it doesn't work?"

"That is not the way I meant it," replied Harry, slowly starting to walk on. "I mean that the King is a cruel person, Hermione. He hurts people for free. His guards are wreaking terror and havoc in his name and under his orders in the land. He thinks that making people fear him will make them quiet and unable to rebel, and he is partly right."

"Father would not," said Hermione slowly; "you think that because you are a criminal, a thief! Most don't think that."

"Do you like reading, Hermione?" he asked all of a sudden.

"Um...yes, I do, a lot, I adore that in fact...but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Then I'll show you something after breakfast. We are arriving."

Hermione did not have time to take a breath and steady herself before Harry pulled her in the Dining Cavern with him. Blaise had shown this room to her yesterday, saying that breakfast was the only meal she would take with them, the others being in her room, as in the mornings, she could thus take orders from the group. She had bristled that they, common thieves, would make her, Princess of a Kingdom she would inherit, carry out orders. But she knew she must play coy if she wanted to escape someday.

There was a dining table laid with amounts of food, and at the head of it the Captain; the others had the same seats they had at the meeting, as a tacite decision. The bubbling laughter, voices, and the odd shout that had resounded before their entry stopped suddenly upon her appearance, and cold hate washed through the room, which the Princess returned but with unease. She wanted to cry.

The Captain suddenly stood, and she saw him for the first time. Her jaw almost went slack.

He was beautifully handsome, and she took in his cool demeanour as an odd tingling pulled through her lower stomach. Then she looked up into those marvelous, legendary grey blue eyes, and almost took a step back at all the hatred she met in them. Then all of a sudden, the hate was gone, leaving place to a cool indifference, so much that she almost thought she imagined the burning passion in them a moment before.

"Your Highness," he stated coldly. "Please sit."

Harry gave her a reassuring smile she could not return and dragged her to sit in the lone seat to his right. The silence was deafening. Harry, though, pretended to ignore it:

"Hermione," he asked with a smile, turning to her, "eggs? Sausage? Tea?"

"I," she faltered. "I'm not hungry."

Suddenly, Ginny, on Harry's left, piped up, looking at her with malicious eyes:

"Don't worry, Princess. It is not poisoned."

Others around the table, save Harry and Blaise, sniggered and shot the woman knowing looks. Even Draco managed a wry smile.

"Oh, I'm not worried that it is poisoned," replied Hermione on an even tone, returning the redhead's malicious gaze, "I just do not want to eat food that you robbed from someone who hadn't asked a thing in the world and was probably slaughtered after the theft."

Silence fell upon them as the laughs ceased. Hermione's cutting words set in like a punch in the gut. Ginny glared at her, hand swiftly landing on the rapier she kept in her belt:

"Why you little..."

"Ladies, ladies," announced loudly Harry, bustling to charge Hermione's plate with food, "I think that is quite enough. Each of you got a say. Now, on with the meal, I am famished."

Hermione, though her stomach was rumbling, did not touch the food and bitterly pushed her plate away. Draco's eyes fell upon her hand as she did so and he recognized the aristocratic features in them. Dainty, petite and white. He shook his head and turned to listen to Blaise, who was babbling on about how the new money, stolen from the Princess' palace, would be best to use. The Captain tried his best, and succeeded, in not looking again at her.

Though Harry invited her softly to eat several times, Hermione did not, and as she was not included in any other conversation, she soon got bored. Finally, everyone finished, and got up to leave. Harry, again, dragged her along.

"Some use that was," she noticed spitefully. "Well, next time, I'll take blasted orders from my room, thank you very much."

Harry merely chuckled and replied,

"Today, we are going to the library, which is a good thing. I need to look up a few records to manage the funds, and I'd like to show you something."

Hermione perked up.

"You have a library? Seriously?"

He laughed and answered,

"Sure thing. Here."

He opened a door, and Hermione gasped.

The cavern was huge, and absolutely brimming with shelves of books. It was cosy, with a fireplace and rugs and plump seats like in her room, and all she ever needed was here. God, she would even barter her room against this.

Harry grinned at her reaction.

"Well, Hermione, it's probably not as big as the one in your palace, but it still has pride. I for myself am not one for reading so it's more than enough."

"I don't know," came back her awed reply.

"Sorry?"

"I don't know if it is bigger than the palace library or not."

Harry was confused:

"I don't understand. If you love reading so much, you should have spent time in there, no?"

"No."

The answer was oddly sad.

"You see, Father deemed that too many books in the palace library were unfit for a young lady. He'd only let me see them at twenty-one. If I wished to read, I'd ask a servant to bring me books on a subject or another."

Harry simply nodded, though he was less naïve than her. More like, her father kept records of his crimes in the library and did not wish for his daughter to stumble upon them until she could handle it and was ready to receive education to become a bloodlusting tyran like him. To Harry's advice, the man had already planned on how to make his daughter a nasty, murderous sovereign like himself. He had waited so long to be perfectly able to know what would make her receptive to him. The man wasn't only a beast, he was a sick, calculating bastard who would make a monster out of her. Now Harry knew that Hermione truly never had a say in the Kingdom's government. She didn't even have a say on where she was allowed to go, for God's sake.

"It's the first time I've ever left the palace, too," noted Hermione to herself, but Harry still heard. "Never been further than the stables for my riding lessons."

Oh, so Daddy Tyran even cut her from the world, not letting her sneak a peep at the poor, terrified city around the lush palace. Harry was disgusted, but Hermione needed to learn things the hard way and stop considering her father as some half-god.

He motioned for her to sit and, a few minutes later, came back with several books.

"Here for you. It's what I wanted to show you about how this Kingdom is ruled. I'll be over by the fire if you need me."

She nodded, greedily pulling a book toward her. _Hogwarts, a History_. She opened it and began to read.

...

An hour later, Hermione was white and trembling as she pulled the last book from the pile. She'd only fluttered over most of the others, the details mocking her agony. She read the title, _A Guide to the Ruling Families of the World_, and opened at the Hogwarts chapter, section Granger.

_The Grangers have been on the throne since about two hundred years, as the first Granger, King Richard the Cruel, murdered his brother-in-law, last of the Paisley family, for the throne. He ruled from 1457 to 1498, when his son, King Richard II said the Executioner, murdered him for the crown._

Hermione's eyes blurred with tears as she skipped down to:

_Today, the son of the last, King Edward the Evil, is ruling since 1660, date of birth of his daughter, Princess Hermione Granger, heir and only child of the King. The King is well known for being the most murderous and unforgiving of the whole Granger family. The Slaughter of Midnight in 1676 is known as an act of King Edward the Cruel's fury, during which he had his whole army assault several villages led by different small nobles against his madness: the Malfoy clan, the Zabini clan, the Parkinson clan, the Potter clan, and the Nott clan especially were slaughtered: men were tortured, children were murdered and women were raped. The King ordered in 1674 to peasants across the land to turn in their whole crop harvest through the Peasant Law, to feed the palace. Very few dared disobey and those who did were killed. The others turned in indeed, and were forced to live only on what they could save to subsist._

Hermione had had enough. She slammed the book closed, tears streaming down her face without stopping. Many sentences that she did not understand came back to her. Ginny's story about her peasant parents murdered, Blaise saying that several of them came from wiped out villages. Parvati and Padma saying that the King would have their heads for saying her name. The guards' behavior in the city of Gryffindor when she left the palace.

She was such a fool. How dare she look these people in the eye and sneer at their petty crimes for survival?

She came from a long line of murderers and madmen herself. The Grangers had gone through history being known as "the Red family" because of the blood they shed. She did not know a thing about this but she could only thank the deities that she had been captured and enslaved before her familial, mad streak turned out and she, too, began slaughtering the masses.

Of course, she would not become a lamb and let the thieves push her around; she would stand tall and proud because she was a Princess, not because she was a Granger.

But for now, the shock was too great. She leaped up, sending her chair cluttering on the floor and threw herself at Harry's feet.

He was reading a record, comfortable in an armchair, when she thrust herself to the floor at his feet after a falling chair resounded. Her cheeks were a deathly white, tears were streaming down her face without ceasing, her eyes were red and bloodshot, she was trembling so much it resembled convulsing, and her bare arms bore the nervous signs of nails, bleeding.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, worried, throwing his record to a side and seizing her hand.

"Is it true?"

Her teeth were chattering so much that it took her several minutes to form the words. He frowned. For someone who was generally supposed to hold a genetical murderous streak and even participate in her father's mad decisions, it was devastating. He then wondered if she really was anything like her family at all. And he had perhaps done a bad thing forcing the knowledge upon her.

He sighed though, and answered.

"Every bit of it. And I only gave you the soft version books, that are not even under censorship."

She howled at that, buried her face in her hands, and promptly passed out.

**...**

**So not much happening this chapter, but at least everything is set for the rest of the story. I wanted at least to introduce the inner workings of Slytherin's Pit to you, dear readers. And how will Hermione react now that she's read the truth? **

**Sooo, Hermione and Draco finally meet...and in the next chapter, there will be a lot of interaction between them.**

**Please read and review, and see you very soon!**


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